


Two Left Feet, Tripping into Love with You.

by Airri



Category: RWBY
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Getting Together, Learning to Dance, M/M, dorks in suits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-16 12:58:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8103208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airri/pseuds/Airri
Summary: He isn't the most graceful of men. But when there's someone you want to impress, well, he's going to go above and beyond.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unheraldedUltimatum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unheraldedUltimatum/gifts).



> Hap Birth, friend. I was planning to finish the whole thing in time but it got ahead of me. I'll try to finish it by the end of the week for you though. It's been a long time coming. Hope you like the first part.

"You're asking me to _what_?"

Ozpin's looking at Oobleck, who keeps looking at his feet, one of which is tap-tap-tapping a rhythm on the ground, the only part channeling his normally boundless energy in this serious conversation. He can't seem to face the fact that he's here, asking for help, because he's always considered himself capable in all matters.

But he huffs, and runs a hand over his hair, clearly frustrated. "Did I not make it clear the first time? I want to learn to dance". Bart glances up, brow furrowed. "I figured you of all people would know how".

Folding his hands, Ozpin rests his chin on them. He knows that Oobleck hasn't really had the chances in the past to learn these things. The man hadn't known how to tie a tie for the first year and a half Ozpin knew him. Even now, it's... well. But that's more a testament to his efficiency.

"...I do", Ozpin admits. "But sadly, I haven't got the time these days. I know someone who does, though. May I ask why you want to learn now? This has never come up before".

Very rarely does Bartholomew Oobleck hesitate. But when he does, it's clear as day, because he goes very, very still. And it concerns Ozpin for a moment. But he, slowly, takes a breath, and everything in him goes slack.

"...The Remnant Educators ball is coming up", he says. Ozpin is aware- the event is held annually for teachers across the Kingdoms to come together, have a day of meetings- comparing courses, and work and plans to create the best Huntsmen possible, followed by a night of relaxation, dinner, music... and of course, dancing.

Ozpin smiles, leaning back. "...And you want to ask someone".

Oobleck nods, and the tapping returns. "But I can't ask them if I don't know how to dance! It'd ruin the whole purpose! I don't want to make a fool of myself!"

"Bart. Calm down. I promise you, you won't. I know just the person to help. ...Whoever it is, I'm sure they'll accept".

He finally meets Ozpin's eyes, and his own odd pair shine. "...Thank you. When do we begin?"

Humming, Ozpin picks up his desk phone. "Well, let me see". He dials, and puts the receiver to his ear. "Glynda? Are you free?"

* * *

Safe to say, he wasn't expecting to be dancing with Glynda Goodwitch. Frankly, the woman could probably tear him to shreds. But here they were, in the gym, with Glynda slowly walking him through the basics. Oobleck suddenly becomes enormously self aware of his large feet, lanky limbs, and over-bounding energy in the face of slow, deliberate, patient movement.

"Bart. You're overthinking again", she says softly, having guided his hands to the correct places- one on her waist, the other in her hand. Though, she's leading. Which makes sense.

"I can't exactly help how much I think", he grinds out, even as they're working through the steps. Forward- one, two. Back, one two. It’s not complex, but it’s more an issue of fine motor control.

Glynda gently taps his shoulder, gaining his attention, and removing his gaze from his feet. “Looking down won’t help. Nor will being paranoid. It’s just like anything else. Practice. Now focus”.

Grumbling, Oobleck reluctantly follows her instructions, and they slowly stumble through the basics. It’s not huge, but it’s progress. As Oobleck goes to excuse himself, Glynda stops him, giving him a curious kind of look.

“...Bart, you know… as charming as this idea is, you don’t _have_ to dance to ask someone to the ball”.

Exhaling loudly through his nose, he rubs at his forehead. “I realise this, Glynda. But practically speaking, if my date wanted to dance and I had to deny them because I didn’t know how, it would leave them disappointed and thus making the overall night less than perfect”.

“And it needs to be perfect”, she finishes, with a soft nod. “I understand. But at the same time… I’m sure your date- if they were considerate- wouldn’t care, dance or no dance”.

Oobleck turns away. “It doesn’t matter. I’m learning. That’s final”. And with that, he leaves, a slightly sympathetic Goodwitch behind him.

* * *

“Thank you for your time, Professor!” Nora calls as she leaves his class, her questions answered. Port chuckles good naturedly, happy to see his students are eager to seek out advice and answers. Packing up his things, he shuts the classroom up when he leaves, and spots Oobleck leaving his class just down the hall.

“Bart!” he calls, hurrying down the hall to catch him. Oobleck’s head shoots up, and he fumbles- almost as if he’s trying to hurry. But Port catches up easily. “I’ve been meaning to catch you. How are you?”

“I’m well- just like every time you ask me, Peter”, he replies sharply. Even for someone who tended to get straight to the point, that was rather… abrupt. Port frowns softly- Oobleck is rarely like this with him of all people- and he can’t recall any reason to warrant such a reaction.

“...What’s on your mind, my friend?” Port asks, trying to get a better idea what might have soured Oobleck’s mood. Usually it’s unfocused students or the stress of marking- but as far as he knows, he hasn’t heard anything like that recently.

Oobleck doesn’t make eye contact with him. “A great deal many a thing, like always. If you’ll excuse me, I have a stack of papers to mark-” he says, as he tries to get around Port, but is stopped by his concerned gaze. Oobleck might be fast, but even he can’t run from Peter Port.

“Now Barty”, Port says firmly, “you know that trick doesn’t work on me. Why are you trying to avoid talking to me?”

He gets a look that he’d easily describe as ‘scathing’. “Do I need a reason?” Oobleck returns, and Peter actually does feel hurt at that. They’ve had a long, easy friendship that goes years back… and there’s rarely been a secret between them. But for Barty to be like this… it stings.

He raises his chin, and nods, curtly. “...I see. Well, in that case, I’ll leave you be”, Port says, before leaving Oobleck in the hallway. The taller doesn’t reply. Just stands there, staring at the floor.

* * *

 "So, Bart", Glynda says at their next lesson. "I noticed, you and Peter haven't been sitting together during lunch. Did something happen?"

“I don’t believe I know what you mean”, he replies curtly, trying to remember to not look down as they revisit the basics once more before moving on to something that could roughly be called dancing. Oobleck is trying to focus, naturally, and trying to guard his words and remember how to move his feet all at once isn’t something he’s apparently very good at.

She suddenly does something- one part dance move, one part fighting move, and he’s swept up off his feet and into a dip, face to face with Glynda Goodwitch’s disapproving gaze.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Bartholomew. We both know you’re one of the smartest people in this school- even in Vale. So you might as well stop trying to lie to me”.

He grumbles, sighing. “...I hate when you do that. Can you at least let me up first?” She does just that, and he tries to straighten his tie- keyword; tries. But he remains askew as always.

Bart runs a hand through his hair, softly. It does nothing to tame the mess on his head. “...We had… a slight disagreement”, Ooblek admits. He’s not even sure that’s the right way to describe it, but it’s probably the most polite way. “I just. Might have gotten a bit snappy with him- and it’s not like I don’t think I did anything wrong, it’s just- I don’t-”

“...Know how to apologize?” Glynda offers, folding her arms. “Well, actually attempting to talk to him might be a good place to start”.

“Well, that’d be all well and good, if only I knew what to say to him!” he replies, throwing his hands up. “I couldn’t even think of a way to talk to him before we argued!” Glynda seems thoughtful at that, but doesn’t seem to want to bring up her opinions on that line.

She nods, sighing. “...Try being honest, for a start, maybe? I don’t know what you want me to say, Bart, especially something that won’t sound like I’m talking to one of the students”.

He raises an eyebrow at that. “Should I be offended?”

“Let’s just. Get back to work”.

* * *

Despite Glynda’s advice, Oobleck is… hesitant, at best, to talk to Port any time soon. He feels like he’ll just say all the wrong things. But she’s right- avoiding him will fix exactly nothing. So the next day, he sits himself next to Port during their lunch break, and pushes over his apricot danish.

“...Peter… I’d like to apologise for my behaviour the other day”, Oobleck says, quietly. “I know I was out of line, and there’s no excusing that. I hope you can forgive me”.

Port looks up from the schedule he’d been working on finally, and looks over at him. Slowly, he smiles, and puts a hand on Bart’s shoulder. “...Of course I can, old friend. We all have our moments. Consider it forgiven and forgotten”, he assures. “But next time, don’t clam up on me. If there’s something on your mind, I’m always going to be here to listen to you”.

Oobleck shakes his head at that. “For someone who talks so much, you really are a good listener”, he agrees, earning a laugh from his friend. “...Honestly, I’ve just been… well, stressed”.

“When are you not stressed?” Port points out, pulling off a piece of the danish to nibble on, while Oobleck snorts. It’s not a lie. God, he missed this easy ribbing.. “But what’s on your mind, Barty?”

He fiddles with the edge of his sleeve, and sighs. “...Remnant Educator’s Ball”, he admits. “You know I’m not exactly… comfortable, in social situations like that”. Peter nods, more than aware. He’s often Oobleck’s buffer for these kinds of things.

Swallowing his mouthful, he looks at Bart with a curious expression. “...You’re nervous”. It’s not a question. “I thought you looked more jumpy than usual. Honestly, Bart, you should have said something sooner”.

Oobleck waves it off. “You had other things to worry about. I don’t need you having to worry over me as well. I’m a grown man, I can handle myself”.

“That you are”, Peter agrees. “...If you need anything, Barty, just ask. I’ll do what I can”.

There’s a moment where there seems to be a sentence on the tip of his tongue, but Oobleck stops himself, thinks to himself. Settles for saying, “Thank you, Peter. That means a lot to me”.

Now if only if he could convince himself of that.


End file.
